


Not Even A Riptide

by PuresaPoison



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: But it shouldn't be depressing, Happy Ending, Harry is the son of Aphrodite, Liam is the son of Athena, Light Angst, Louis is a sad boi, M/M, Percy Jackson AU, Prince Louis, Prince Of The Sea, Zayn is the son of Hades, niall is the son of apollo, of course
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuresaPoison/pseuds/PuresaPoison
Summary: The gods are at war, and only Louis can stop them. A Percy Jackson AU where Louis is the son of Poseidon, raised under the sea and molded into the perfect weapon. Juggling prophecies and myths and monsters is easy, falling in love is the hard part.





	Not Even A Riptide

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably proof read this but I really just want to get the first chapter of this out. This fic is based off my own Percabeth AU from 2010 (that I stopped writing because I was 13). Basically Louis is Percy Jackson and this is his story.

_A Half-Blood of the eldest gods,_

_Shall reach nineteen against all odds_

_And see the world in endless sleep_

_The hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap_

_A single choice shall end his days_

_Olympus to preserve or raze_

 

The Great Prophecy; the greatest warning the gods have of the times to come. A child born from Zeus, Poseidon or Hades, The Big Three, will decide the fate of Olympus and all its inhabitants. 

The history following the children of the Big Three states they were too powerful. Always leaving behind horrifying carnage wherever they went. World War II was a fight between the sons of Hades against the sons of Poseidon and Zeus. A devastation so great, a pact was made in the form of a treaty. The brothers swore to never succumb to lustful desires and lay with mortal women again. Promising to never produce an heir to the prophecy, the dangers of the warning would never come.

All three brothers broke the pact.

Zeus fathered a daughter, a beautiful, wide-eyed blonde named Theresa. She died before she came of age. As she was fleeing, Theresa was killed at the top of Half-Blood hill, moments away from safety. Her death so tragic and sudden, Zeus transformed his dying daughter into a pine tree. 

Theresa’s Tree stood as a symbol for Camp Half-Blood, a safe haven for demigods to train and learn greek mythology for the summer. The tree also served as the starting marker for the magical boundary surrounding the camp. This boundary kept the camp safe from the monsters of the underworld, as they are attracted to power.

The more powerful a demigod, the more danger persisted.

Poseidon broke the pact five years after Zeus. Poseidon decided to keep his son safe in a palace under the water and away from worldly temptation. The Lord of the Sea stole his son away from the arms of his loving mother, raising him as a prince.

Poseidon decided to craft the perfect weapon.

The prince was given a sword the day he learned to walk, was given a bow and arrow the day he learned what it meant to hide.

The royal guards trained with him, not giving the thirteen year old boy special treatment as he matched their skill. He was molded into the perfect assassin. Bathed in the River Styx, his skin was impenetrable from the age of five.

He was an intellectual, studying war strategies with Athena. He was a poet, reading sonnets with Apollo. He was a hunter, practicing techniques with Artemis.

His crown was his final gift. His anchor to the sea, his connection to his father. Louis was never seen without wearing it. No matter how far away he was, he could always hear the roar of the ocean inside the enchanted jewels. If he focused, he could feel the soft caress of the current against his cheek. The loving touch he craved, he found in the water.

He was the son of the sea, the son of the earth shaker and storm bringer; Poseidon’s boy. Spending his days in a palace under crashing waves or on Mt. Olympus above New York City, the boy grew into his armored skin.

This child was to hold the fate of every single god in existence. He was to be a hero.

He was Louis Tomlinson, Prince of the Sea.

***

“Why am I doing this?” Louis croaks, trudging up the steepest hill he’s ever seen.

“Because you love me,” Zayn smiles, not even breaking a sweat.

“It’s really unfair that you’re so unaffected right now,” Louis grumbles. “You grew up in Hell, literally surrounded by fire.”

“You’ve been to the underworld before, don’t be so dramatic, you fucking fish,” Zayn laughs.

Zayn was also a son of the Big Three. His father, Hades, King Of The Underworld, was a riot. Zayn grew up with his father and Persephone, who took the role of ‘mother’ very seriously. Surprisingly, the son of the dead was quite sensitive, picking up his personality from the goddess of Spring. Zayn was a few months younger than Louis. Next in line for the prophecy.

Zayn continues to saunter up the hill, carrying both his and Louis’ suitcases.

Louis would have carried his own, but spending his summer at a stupid camp for demigods wasn’t his idea. And because the idea belonged to Zayn, the responsibility of carrying heavy objects was also his.

The humidity is heavy, coaxing the hot breath out of Louis’s mouth and replacing it with thick, viscous, salty summer air. The heat surrounding him isn’t the worst he’s felt, isn’t even that effective in deterring the prince.

Louis just doesn’t want to be here, but since he is, he’ll continue to complain to get a reaction out of his cousin.

But the heat is still pretty bad.

“When was the last time you left your Little Mermaid palace?” Zayn continues.

This wasn’t the reaction Louis was looking for.

“When we got the Golden Fleece, Lucifer.”

Theresa’s Tree was poisoned earlier in the year, destroying the protective boundary and putting the lives of every demigod at the camp in danger. The Golden Fleece was some type of magical blanket that held powerful healing abilities. Poseidon asked his son to retrieve the fleece from Polyphemus’ Island, stating that Louis had to put his skills to the test and defeat Polyphemus himself. Louis didn’t hesitate to take his sword and slaughter his own half-brother.

He hesitated once before and he was punished severely for his mercy. Never again.

“That was months ago, Lou.”

Has it really been that long? Louis remembers bringing the fleece back to the camp and booking it back to his palace, eager for the solitude. Zayn had stayed behind to see what happened, witnessing the revival of not just the tree, but of Theresa as well.

The fleece worked so well, Zeus’ daughter was brought back to life. He stood in amazement with the rest of the campers, only being jostled out of his own head when a curly haired boy pushed his way past him to get to the confused girl.

Zayn remembered watching the heart breaking scene in front of him. He saw the way Theresa and the boy clung to each other, both gasping for air as they cried. Word of her revival spread as quick as lightning, meaning Artemis made an appearance mere minutes after Theresa took her first breath. Zayn saw the goddess of the hunt take Theresa away from the crying boy, leading her away from the nosey crowd and into privacy.

He knew what she was going to ask. He knew that Louis was now second in line for the prophecy once again, momentarily saved from leading an army of demigods against a bloodthirsty horde of Titans.

Artemis was explaining the prophecy to Theresa. Making it clear how she would lose her life during the final battle on Mt. Olympus on her nineteenth birthday. Zayn knew of the prophecy, losing hours of sleep thinking about how his cousin, his best friend, would most likely die at the hands of Kronos. He thought about his best friend sacrificing his life for the world.

So standing there atop Camp Half-Blood hill, watching Artemis explain it all to Theresa, stopped his heart from beating. He knew what Artemis wanted. She was the goddess of the hunt after all, and she spotted her prey.

Artemis was always on the lookout for a new huntress, and Theresa was an exciting, spontaneous find. If Theresa agreed to join Artemis, she would stay seventeen forever. Recruiting her would postpone the prophecy, giving the gods more time to plan for Kronos.

Zayn knew Louis wasn’t actually saved from his destiny. He knew the offer to become an immortal huntress, was too good to pass up. He knew Theresa would choose the easy way out. Just being resurrected and having to die again sounding like the biggest turn off in the world. And tt was.

Zayn watched as the curly haired boy cried harder, asking why Theresa was leaving him again.

Zayn felt his heart break. It broke for the innocent boy crying out for his friend, and it broke for Louis, the scared little boy hidden behind a stoic mask.

That brings them here. Zayn knew Louis had a year and a half left before he had to face his destiny, he may as well have some fun.

“Do you want a piggy back ride?” Zayn coos.

Louis’s response is an eye roll, he forces himself to walk ahead and away from the offending boy.

They eventually reach the top, taking in the sight before them. The hill overlooked rolling fields. Greek architecture littered the view. Large white columns glittered in the summer light, reflecting the raise Apollo blessed the world with every day. Louis could see demigods running into the amphitheater, playing volleyball on the beach, and training by the woods. The campers wore matching orange t-shirts, so bright they rivaled Zeus’ lightning.The view gave way to the ocean and Louis felt a rush of relief.

Closing his eyes, he let the roar of the sea synch his breathing.

Breathe in with the pull, breathe out with the crash.

“They better not try to make me wear those shirts,” Zayn mumbled. Louis opened his eyes and give Zayn a quick glance.

“The orange will really bring out your eyes,” with that, Louis began his descent towards the cottage just off the pathway.

The scent of strawberries filled Louis’ nose as he approached the porch. He noticed an older man peeking his head through the doorway. Seeing the boys approaching, the man walked out of the house.

Or rather, galloped.

The centaur before them seemed friendly, with his warm smile and long flowing hair. His horse body was a soft brown color, shiny and strong. His upper, human body was that of a warrior. His muscled arms tanned in the morning sun. Louis couldn’t help but notice the bright orange shirt the centaur was wearing. Looks like everyone really does follow the dress code.

“Princes, it is an honor to meet you. My name is Chiron, I am the head director of Camp Half-Blood.” Zayn flinched at the use of a title, quickly jumping in.

“The honor is all ours, sir. Please, call me Zayn. No need for such posh propriety,” Zayn extended his arm, giving Chiron a strong handshake. Louis followed as well.

“Thank you for your hospitality, my father has spoken highly of you. I’m happy to finally put a face to the stories,” Louis greeted the director with trained decorum.

Proper etiquette and respect was Louis’ default setting. Unlike Zayn, Louis never had the luxury of informalities. His father was a king on his office days, a diplomat on his off days. He force fed Louis rules, regulations, etiquette. The old fashion approach added to the package. Louis William, a next and possibly final, hero of Olympus. How would Poseidon look if he raised an uncultured barbarian? How could he show his godly face at brunch?

Gods, did Louis hate brunch.

Chiron was just opening his mouth to reply when a bright orange frisbee zonked him in the head. Zayn let out a surprised snort while Louis raised an eyebrow and went to pick up the offending object.  
  
“Oops! Chiron, I’m so sorry! Niall wanted to see how far he could throw and I got scared cause it was coming at my face way too fast so I ducked and didn’t realize you were in the line of fire but I really should have seen that coming because we really do cause a good amount of damage at this camp so obviously the odds aren’t in our favor,” A low, and slightly panicked drawl made its way to Louis’ ears. Never has he ever heard such a long, and slow run on sentence in his life. How is that possible?

Turning to face the disgraced voice, Louis felt his fingers clench around the frisbee.

The boy before him was beautiful. His curly hair sat atop his head like a mop. The prettiest mop Louis’ ever seen. Curly had bright green eyes, set wide in apology as he looked at Chiron. He stood with a slight hunch, broad shoulders curved inward as he held out his hands in prayer.  Louis noticed the boy’s t-shirt, bright as Chiron’s, but definitely altered. The sleeves were ripped off as well as the collar. Louis ignored the boy’s strong collarbones.

“Hi,” Louis started, his voice sounding raspy in his ears. The boy realized Chiron wasn’t alone, and finally made eye contact with Louis.

_A son of Aphrodite._

Louis felt the sudden urge to throw the frisbee at Zayn’s face the moment he saw the dimple on the campers face.

This isn’t fair, time to rein himself back in.

Louis squared his shoulders and started again. Default setting rebooting once again.

“This belongs to you, I presume.” With his mind now blank, Louis reached out to return the frisbee.

The kid quirked an eyebrow and took back the toy.

“You presume?” He began to smirk but it quickly dissolved into shock when he caught sight of Louis’ crown. “Holy Hades! You’re the prince aren’t you? Gods, this wasn’t how I imagined meeting you would go!” He clutched the frisbee to his chest, looking genuinely upset.

“You imagined your first meeting with Prince Louis? What else do you dream up about him?” Zayn piped in, snorting once again.

If the kid looked distressed before, he looks straight up mortified right now.

“Uh no not like that! I mean, my name’s Harry and I’m kind of the welcoming committee here so I sort of have to plan a little bit,” Harry smiles, seeming to gain his footing once again. “My moms Aphrodite, so you probably know her.” His smile is so wide that Louis feels the need to wipe it off his face for him.

“Interesting. You have your mother's beauty but not her poise,” Louis raises his chin and anchors himself to the waves once more.  

_You’re here to train. Do not waste the little time you have left on a pretty face._

Louis can never decipher the voice that drifts into his head, but he feels a sense of trust whenever he hears it. The voice serves as a guideline, a rope that he ties around his wrist to pull him back to shore.

Harry’s face turns a shade of red, almost like a rose, and Louis lets that thought fizzle and die before he can focus on it.

Roses have thorns, and Louis doesn’t have time to think about how the flower standing before him can make him bleed.


End file.
